


Indecent

by DrSalazar2U



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anthony Bridgerton - Freeform, Banter, Breeding, M/M, Memories, Simon Basset - Freeform, Victorian, outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrSalazar2U/pseuds/DrSalazar2U
Summary: “You see," the Duke began. "I reason that if I can remind you of our times together, you will know that the growing affection I hold for your sister is sincere. It comes from a place of care. The same place, in fact, that I hold for you. Still.”Anthony was frozen, but found the strength to say, “if— what you say is true then surely you would not want to sully this affection by returning to our old… um… practices. It would be… indecent.”Simon spoke in a low, gravelly whisper, “one cannot know true decency, my Lord…” his body was flush against Anthony’s now. Anthony stifled a moan as the Duke leaned in to his ear and said,“until one has been indecent.”
Relationships: Simon Basset & Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset/Anthony Bridgerton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	Indecent

Anthony Bridgerton stood against a column, drinking his 3rd port of the night and watching the fireworks go off in the background. The sound was deafening. But the spectacle was quite entertaining despite the fact that he loathed these balls. He thought them a colossal waste of time, and couldn’t imagine himself chasing after any of these women to make them his viscountess. No, he would have much rather been in bed, deep inside Siena hearing her breathy whispers as they fucked the night away. That was his idea of a good night. 

Instead, he was here trying his damnedest to make sure his sister did not ruin the match he’d made for her. After all, that was his duty. Duty… the word that rang so loudly in his ear like the blast of the fireworks, only this ringing came in in his mother’s derisive tone. 

“Pray tell, what do you know of duty?” She had had the audacity to ask him. 

The question alone made Anthony feel impotent. It was bad enough that he felt the constant pressure to live up to their family’s name, to bear the burden of being the first son of the first son, only to be reminded that he was failing at it miserably. And then, when he takes the initiative to make sure his sister is taken care of with a suitable match, he is chastised for being callous. 

He bitterly took his final sip and began looking through the firework’s thick smoke for a servant so that he could take another. If he had to suffer through this, he was going to be drunk. 

As he continued his search, he turned towards the dance floor and almost dropped his glass. 

There they were, his sister and Simon Basset, his friend, fellow rake, and the newly named Duke of Hastings, walking through the crowd towards that very dance floor… holding hands. 

Holding hands! Anthony cursed to himself. He thought he had made it clear to both Daphne and his mother that this coupling could not happen. Simon was not the one for Daphne, both because of his lecherous reputation and the fact that he, Anthony, had already arranged for his sister to marry Lord Berbrooke. 

He continued to stare dumbstruck as the pair made their way to the dance floor. The dance floor. If ever there as a public place for all to see, it was there. This would be the talk of the ton. This would be in Lady Whistledown’s next publication. There was no doubt. Everyone knew that if you wanted your coupling to be known and oogled at, you went to the dance floor. That was exactly why Anthony avoided it like the plague. He was, as his mother constantly reminded him, an eligible bachelor but had no interests in giving up that life for the sake of balls and affairs like this. No, he preferred his freedom, and would hold onto it for as long as he could. 

“Another drink, my lord?” 

Anthony was shaken out of his inner thoughts by a server with a platter of champagne. He took a glass, putting his empty one on the tray, turning back to see the couple wait for the quartet’s music to begin.

Now that he was out of his reverie, he heard, mingled with the sounds of the music, the whispers as Daphne and Simon began their dance.

“Mama! Look! Is that not Daphne Bridgerton with the new Duke of Hastings?”

“Why does she get to have her pick of the ton? She’s not even that pretty.” 

“Perhaps she’s not, but my God, the Duke is more handsome than I could have imagined….” 

“Yes, but where has he been all this time? No one seems to know.” 

“Yes,” Anthony thought as he moved closer to the dance floor to get away from the envious whispers, and closer to his sister and friend spinning elegantly. 

“Where had Simon been?” 

He left the ton without much of a word, and Anthony had not laid eyes on him in years. Perhaps since they had been together at university. Anthony took an absent minded sip of his champagne and relished thoughts of their days away at Oxford. 

They had had so much fun together. The drunken nights, the drunken days, the women, and … each other. He felt his pants tighten as his mind wandered down the path of memories to certain nights and days that he spent with the man. The man, who was dancing with his sister right now. The man who everyone around him presumed was going to propose to her. His chaste and pure sister was now being twirled by someone who Anthony himself had known intimately on numerous occasions. 

He couldn’t stand for this. He resolved to talk to the Duke about this again, and make a hard stand against whatever it was he and Daphne were playing at. 

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?” A familiar voice intoned over his left shoulder. 

He did not need to look, he knew it was his mother that stood behind him, no doubt beaming as she watched the seeds she and Lady Danbury had planted mere days ago flourish into something they deemed beautiful. 

Anthony huffed, “it certainly is something, mother. I suppose you’re proud of yourself.” 

“I am happy to see Daphne with someone who is worthy of her, and not that oaf you threw at her out of spite and sheer laziness.” 

Anthony made to turn around to face her, but his mother made a slight “ah” sound, and he knew that if he faced her angrily it would draw the attention of all those around them. One thing about the British aristocracy, their ears and eyes were primed to find a scandal, no matter how small, anywhere. So Anthony remained resolutely perturbed, his eyes fixed on his sister and her dance partner.

His mother continued, “while you might blame me for this, dear son, you are the reason this union will happen.” Her voice never raised above a whisper, but it cut through all the noise and through the internal narrative Anthony had been telling himself like a hot knife through cold butter. 

“If you,” she continued mercilessly “had just let Daphne bask in the glow given to her by being the queen’s seasonal favorite. If you had just let her dance with suitors at that first ball, she would not be here dancing with your friend.” 

Anthony took a deep breath, now refusing to turn to his mother as the weight of her words settled over him like a wet blanket. 

“Mother, you may be right about how this might have gone if I had conducted things differently. Yes, you may well have a point there. But what I know for certain is that the Duke is, for innumerable reasons that I will not share for the sake of your scruples, not the man for Daphne.” 

“Know what you will, and say what you want, but also look at what is in front of you, Anthony. Look at how they are gazing at one another, and let that be the answer to whatever questions plague you.” 

She paused a moment, giving him the chance to do as she instructed, and then whispered, “find me when we are to leave.”

He did not turn, but he knew she had gone back to relish in the envious attention the other mamas would lavish upon her once they saw in whom’s arms Daphne found herself. 

But, he did look at his sister and the Duke dancing. She was radiant. He didn’t often see her this way, as a young woman. In fact, as of late, he saw the eldest Bridgeton daughter as more of a burden than a person, a responsibility, a chore to manage. 

But as the music changed to a waltz and the smoke from the fireworks finally cleared, leaving only the lamp light, the stars, and the glowing eyes of onlookers shining around the dance floor, Daphne was luminescent as if she was the source of all the light around her. 

She spun so effortlessly across the floor staring at the Duke with a look of pure elation, and Anthony could not help but be jealous that she could even muster such an emotion in this setting, with all these people around her. How the weight of it all did not crush her was beyond him. 

He saw a similar look of admiration mirrored on the Duke’s face and his stomach dropped like a stone. This was a look that, Anthony was loathe to admit, he had seen on a night he and the young Hastings heir were together. 

They were sober that night, talking about what they wanted for their future selves. They both relished the freedom to be who they wanted to be without the burden of title and the responsibilities that came with it. They laid out on the grass outside their sleeping quarters and stared at the stars laughing and joking about the places they would go and the things they would see. And there was a moment where Simon looked at him in a similar way to how he was now looking at Daphne. 

He looked long at the pair, and decided that he did not care about how Daphne looked now, he was thinking about how she would look when she found out her husband had cheated on her with countless people. He would not allow her to be reduced to a simple play thing for the Duke. 

He may not have known where the Duke had been in a the most recent years, but he knew the Duke. And he knew, like himself, that tigers do not change their stripes, nor can the be tamed simply by willing it to be so. 

The music stopped and the onlookers applauded. Daphne bowed to the Duke, and took the hand of another suitor who seemed to have sprung from the very ground in front of her. She smiled politely but looked over her shoulder as Simon walked off back towards the gardens. 

Taking a large gulp of his champagne, Anthony found the strength and the will to confront his friend yet again. As he walked he saw another servant and, without stopping, gave him the glass. He wanted to be sure to catch the Duke before he disappeared. 

This had to happen tonight. 

As he passed through the column of hedges that were some 15 feet high, he turned to his right and saw Simon out of eyeline of the crowd leaning up against a tree seemingly deep in thought. 

He walked up to the man and bowed. 

“Your Grace,” he said sardonically. 

His tone was not lost on Simon who smirked saying, “my Lord, we’ve discussed this. Such formality is not necessary between friends.”

“Yes, your Grace, we did discuss this, but we also discussed you staying away from my sister and not leading her down this path. And yet,” Anthony rose from his dramatically low and prolonged bow to meet the Duke’s eyes, “for reasons unknown, you seem unable to abide by that, leaving me to wonder if our agreements are mere words without meaning, or if your defiance is meant to punish me for some offense I have mounted against you.” 

“Did we agree, my Lord? Or did you merely make a demand and assume that I, like the servants you have or even perhaps the mistresses you keep, would simply listen?” Simon was still smiling, like this was a game, but there was a flirtatious glint in his eye that unnerved Anthony. 

“Simon,” Anthony sighed. Already tired of the formality. He hoped that taking a more personal approach might make his intentions more clear. 

“Ah! So I am Simon once more. How glorious it is to return to oneself again. Particularly since, as I have shared with you, on numerous occasions, this title means very little to me.” 

Anthony sighed once more and walked over to the tree and leaned against it, his shoulder softly touching that of the Duke. 

Their backs were facing away from the party obscured by the tree’s wide trunk, but the sound of the music still wafted on the light summer breeze, carrying with it the fragrances of the gardens multitude of flowers. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Anthony began.

“She’s my sister, Simon.” His tone was not one of pleading, but it had an edge of concern that the other man did not miss. 

“I am aware of this Anthony, and would never think to debase her in any way. You must know that of me.” 

“What I know of you should not be a consideration, for I fear I know too much…” 

The eldest Bridgerton found himself smiling thinking about all the things he knew. He also felt that familiar tightening of his trousers yet again. 

“Well yes, you do know… more than most,” Simon said with a chuckle. His deep voice sounding light, as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 

He continued, “I think of those days often…”

“Which days?” Anthony questioned. 

He knew of the days the Duke spoke, but wanted to hear the other say it aloud. Watching him dance with his sister stirred something in Anthony, and it might be the alcohol or the heady scent of the garden’s flowers that surrounded them, but Anthony found himself drawn to Simon in a way that he hadn’t felt for another man since they had left Oxford. 

“Our days, Ant.” 

“Ant” hung in the air, thick and heavy like the smoke from the night’s fireworks. No one called him that but Simon. 

His father had always said that nicknames were undignified and that, as the first son of the first son, he was to go by his full name. But there was something about the way Simon said it. It felt like a familiar embrace, a transport back to the days where being the first son of the first son meant nothing more than a nice allowance and the need to keep one’s escapades as secret as possible. 

Simple days. 

Happy ones. 

“Ah” was all Anthony could muster as he found himself on that familiar path of memories that took him to the nights with their bodies flush against each others, the sounds of their deep breaths perforating the air as sweat dripped from their muscles. Even in his best attempts to keep his mind in the present, Anthony could feel the Duke’s breath on his neck, which sent shivers up his spine. 

“Do you still…” Simon began. His voice, still low, but soft and hopeful. 

There was a hint of innocence, a child asking a parent if Father Christmas was real. Anthony closed his eyes. He could not be drawn in by this. The days of frivolity were over. Isn’t that what his mother was constantly reminding him? He needed to focus. He had come to speak to the Duke for a reason. 

“I came here to speak to you about my sister, Simon” Anthony interjected, knowing that if he allowed himself a moment of retrospection, he would not be able to say what needed to be said. 

“Yes, of course,” the softness in the Duke’s voice vanished bringing back the heft and weight of his title with rapid speed. 

“Sim- your Grace…” Anthony began. Clearly the lack of formality was not working.

He saw the other man roll his eyes, not looking at Anthony. But there was a crinkle at the edges of his mouth that told Anthony he found his correction and formality more amusing than anything else. 

Anthony pressed on. 

“I only want what is best for my sister, and—” 

“And you do not think I do as well? Or you do not think I am what is best for her?” 

“I-”

Simon turned to Anthony, still leaning his shoulder against the tree. His face serene, no sign of offense, or even annoyance. He seemed to be studying Anthony with his eyes. Studying might be too weak a word. He was drinking him in. As if he’d never see him before.

“You know, Ant?” 

There it was again. “Ant.” 

Simon smiled. 

Anthony felt his heartbeat begin to pick up, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Simon’s smile had often had that effect on him. 

“You and your sister are so similar, it is almost comical. Both headstrong. Both stubborn. Both unable to see when someone cares for them. Both unwilling to admit that they care for someone else. Both…” He reached out Anthony’s hand and grabbed it softly. Anthony went to pull it away, but as quickly as that impulse came, it died. He felt his face warm as the Duke caressed his hands and stroked his fingers softly with his thumb. 

“Unable to hide their attraction… to me.” 

Anthony stammered. 

“You- you misunderstand my intention, your Grace” was all he could manage.

His body felt like it was overheating. How was this happening? It had been years, and so many women, and yet this simple touched reduced Anthony to a man without boundaries, a man who wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the one before him. How often he had thought about what it might be like to be with Simon, but it wasn’t allowed. He’d never let his mind wander too far as the only thing at the end of that road was heartbreak or death. 

But here, behind this tree, at this ball, it felt like a reality. A fleeting moment of bliss was finally within his grasp, literally. 

But he couldn’t! 

His mind was in a constant state of tug of war, while his hand remained in that of the Duke’s. His dick was pressing just as hard against his pants as his heart was beating against his chest. 

“I do not think that I do, my Lord… you see. Daphne turns the same shade of red as you when my skin touches hers, when we dance, promenade…” 

His voice trailed off, and Anthony found himself struck by how much attention the Duke must have been paying to his sister and to him… 

“When I first saw it,” Simon continued, “I immediately thought of you.”

“Of me? Your Grace?” 

“Yes,” Simon dropped Anthony’s hand, and laughed at the puzzled expression on his face. 

“It took me back to that night when we laid out under the stars and… just talked. Do you remember?” 

Not daring to speak lest the tone of his voice reveal how much that night had meant to him, Anthony merely nodded. 

“Do you remember when we were wrestling?” 

Another nod. 

“We paused for a moment, you on top of me, and you were breathless and red and wholly enraptured. It was a sight I’ve not been able to shake since…” 

“Your Grace, these memories do nothing for us now.”

Now, Anthony was almost pleading with the Duke to refrain from this journey down the path of memories. His mind was beginning to wander more and more, and he knew the further they went, the further from his resolve he would be. 

“I disagree, my Lord.” 

Simon pushed himself off the tree and walked to stand directly in front of Anthony. His eyes alight with something more than lust. He looked like the young man at Oxford, unclaimed by his father, unfettered and free. The shackles of his title not yet wrapped around him. 

The Duke took a step forward. Simon’s breath came to him more raggedly as if a hand had grabbed his heart tightly. The ragged edges of the tree bark against which he leaned were pressing into his back as he pushed himself against it, wishing it would open up and swallow him so he could escape Simon’s gaze… and how it made him feel. 

“You see, I reason that if I can remind you of our times together, you will know that the growing affection I hold for your sister is sincere. It comes from a place of care. The same place, in fact, that I hold for you. Still.” 

“If— what you say” Anthony started, still pushing against the trunk of the tree, deep breaths punctuating each word, his pants felt tighter and tighter the longer his eyes remained locked with the Duke’s, “is true then surely you would not want to sully this affection by returning to our old… um… practices. It would be… indecent.” 

Simon let out a low mirthful laugh as he made one step closer. He was now toe to toe with Anthony and the champagne on his breath filled Anthony’s nostrils as he struggled to maintain his composure. Everything in him wanted what Simon was offering, but he knew that if he took it, there would be no going back. He wanted the fear of being caught to sure up his composure, but it did nothing but excite him even motor. 

Simon spoke in a low, gravelly whisper, “one cannot know true decency, my Lord…” his body was flush against Anthony’s now. Their hard cocks rubbing against one another slowly. Anthony stifled a moan as the Duke leaned in to his ear and said, “until one has been indecent.” 

With those words, something inside Anthony broke. 

All the restraint and effort he had vanished. He felt like he did when they were in college. He wanted this man. He wanted to feel him, every inch of him. 

With one hand, he grabbed the Duke’s crotch and felt his sizable, hard member. Simon let out a surprised groan, like he had been waiting for such a moment. He then leaned in and kissed Anthony hard, pushing his head against the tree trunk. The men fought for dominance as their tongues danced in each other’s mouths. They let out low moans, knowing that even with the music playing, they needed to be careful. 

They were obscured by the size of the tree trunk but even the slightest movement and they might be exposed to their fellow party goers. 

These worries were fleeting as they continued their kissing and groping. Anthony worked his fingers deftly on the buttons of the Duke’s pants, wanting to feel Simon’s bare cock in his hands. Once he got them loose enough, he plunged his hands inside and grabbed the large, veiny member and moaned in satisfaction, never breaking from their kiss. 

Taking Anthony’s lead, Simon started working on Anthony’s buttons, while also wiggling his pants to his own ankles. It didn’t take long for him to have Anthony’s hard dick in his hands, finding it already slick with precum. He pulled away from their kiss with a smile.

“You always were a little slut weren’t you Bridgerton?” 

Anthony laughed loudly only to quickly bring his voice down. 

“I never remember you complaining, your Grace.”

“And you won’t now. We must be quick though, people will wonder where we’ve gone. Turn around.” 

Anthony chuckled and, turning around and propping himself against the tree with one hand bent over. He was ready for this. He didn’t know it until now, but he wanted to feel Simon inside of him. He felt his hole already slick with anticipation only to be further lubricated by Simon’s spit. 

“This is just like university isn’t it?” 

Anthony heard the man’s laughter in his voice. 

“Shut up and put it in. We don’t have time this, and don’t think I’m not going to have my turn inside you. If memory serves you quite enjoyed when I—” 

Anthony didn’t get to finish his jibe as Simon began slowly pressing himself inside his hole. The pain was almost unbearable, but a large part of Anthony welcomed it. 

It had been so long since he had felt something. Even with Siena, the knowledge that their relationship, as fun as it was, could never go anywhere weighed on him. But this fleeting moment, shared with someone whom he cared about seemed to free every weight from his shoulders. He had no responsibilities in this moment, no concerns, just lust and desire. 

It took a few moments for Simon to get all the way inside Anthony as he had to take his time and keep applying spit to his shaft to ease himself inside, but the feeling was excruciatingly pleasurable. 

Anthony had to bite his fist to keep himself from moaning too loud and drawing attention. The music of the party was still playing, but not even the sounds of the quartet and the chatter of the party would be able to cover his sounds of pleasure if he let them escape. 

This was bliss, Anthony thought in spite of himself. He knew this wasn’t what he should be doing, but it’s what he wanted. Feeling Simon balls deep inside his hole slowly stroking him while also jerking his dick. It was almost too much too handle, but Anthony was intent on finding a way. 

As Simon’s pace began to pick up, Anthony found himself meeting the Duke’s pace, enthusiastically throwing himself back against his cock. 

“Like I said, always a little slut….”

“Simon…” Anthony moaned, lost in the pleasure of the moment, he did not know how loud he had been but guessed it was too much as Simon’s hand flew up from Anthony’s cock to cover his mouth and stayed there.

Laughing to himself Anthony, lightly licked his palm and tasted saltiness of his hand. Simon groaned as he picked up the pace of his fucking and stuck two fingers in Anthony’s mouth.

“Fuck…” 

Simon took his hand from Anthony’s mouth speeding up his thrusts, sending Anthony into a state of euphoria as he held himself up against the tree.

“Your Grace…” Anthony panted in a whispered tone. “Such language…” 

“You do…” Simon paused his motion and moved, as if to pull out of Anthony’s hole.

Anthony went to turn to see the problem only to feel the Duke slam himself back inside, making Anthony see stars. 

Instinctively, Anthony’s fist flew back into his mouth as he moaned deeply. 

Simon leaned into Anthony’s body, and whispered , “…bring out the worst in me.”

“If this is your worst, your Grace, I fear I’ve not done my job well…”

Simon slammed himself into Anthony again, and without touching himself Anthony felt his body explode in ecstasy. Spurt after spurt of cum sprang out of him and it was everything in him not to scream Simon’s name out. He braced himself against the tree still feeling Simon’s thrusts as the man behind him continued until, a few moments later, he heard him say, 

“Ant!” 

And Anthony felt the contents of the Duke’s release fill him. 

Both men stood but for a moment, working to catch their breath. Anthony winced as Simon pulled out of him. 

Still breathless, Anthony bent down to pull up his pants. As he bent over, he felt the Duke smack his ass. He shot up astonished and turned around. 

“Too tempting not to…” Simon said with a shrug as his fingers worked to quickly fasten his pants back around his waist. 

“You’ve always been one to give into your more basic instincts, your Grace,” Anthony said chuckling while smoothing out any wrinkles. Not that it mattered, no one would be paying him any attention, he was a man.

“And you,” Simon stepped forward again and licking Anthony’s lips, “love when I do.”

“I most certainly do not dislike it,” Anthony whispered, biting the Duke’s bottom lip. 

The Duke, smiling turned to make his way back to the ball. 

“Si,” Anthony called. Feeling himself blush at his usage of the nickname he had given the Duke.

Simon stopped and turned.

“If you intend to marry my sister, you know this cannot happen again once you do.” He lazily waved his hand pointing at himself and the Duke. 

“Well, my Lord,” Simon began walking back towards the eldest Bridgerton, “fortunately, for us, the season’s only just begun.”


End file.
